Red Dead Retaliation
by The Skinny Love
Summary: After Celia Ross is forced to witness the murder of her father, she is determined to go after his killer. When she does come face to face with Jack Marston for a second time, she questions the one thing she wants most: RETALIATION. JackxOC; Rated M for violence and mature subjects.
1. The Kidnapping of Celia Ross

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Red Dead Redemption. Celia Ross is my OC character so I am taking claim to her.**

**WARNING: This first chapter includes scenes that have been altered because of my OC's appearance. Also, this is rated mature due to violence and other things that will be revealed in later chapters. You have been warned! :)**

**Author's note: This is my first Red Dead Redemption fan fic and I'm pretty excited about it. By the way, I know there is some kind of thing also titled _Red Dead Retaliation_, but just so you know this story has nothing to do with it. Anyways, please enjoy and don't forget to review . . . if it's just to tell me if you liked it or not or give me some feedback on what I could improve. Thanks! :)**

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I was sitting in the house practicing my sewing. It wasn't a fun hobby for me, but my mother had always wanted me to learn. My thin fingers were far too nervous and I pricked my finger. I gasped at the tiny sting and watched tip of my finger where a spec of blood appeared. I sucked on the wound for a moment, losing all interest as I heard the sound of galloping hooves drawing near.

I jumped up from my bed and peered out the window viewing the porch where my dear mother sat on the wooden bench. It was too early for Papa to return from his hunting trip with Uncle Phillip. As suspected, I saw an unfamiliar palomino horse approach the house, I didn't recognize the rider either. As he got closer and came to a stop in the yard, I noticed his long, shaggy hair hidden under an old leather hat. He was dressed like one of those cowboys and decorated with several guns. The stranger was quiet as he dismounted and walked toward the porch. From behind the glass, I couldn't help but notice his dark eyes. I had to admit, he made me a little nervous.

"Excuse me, ma'am." The stranger finally said.

"Hello young man." My mother greeted him politely. He replied with a quick hi.

"What are you doing out here? Are you out visiting the lake with your family?" Mama continued.

"No, ma'am. I was looking to deliver a letter to Edgar Ross." The younger man responded very officially. From his words, I figured he was another man from the bureau where my father had worked for many years before he'd finally retired. We'd seen them come by several times since then, still bothering my Papa when he was trying to live out the rest of his days peacefully. My mother obviously felt the same way.

"Oh, that husband of mine. That bureau just won't get its talons out of him, even though he's retired." She began. After a pause she stood and stepped to the side where she was almost out of my view. "Edgar gave them some of the best years of his life, they oughtta let him retire in peace. They'll not rest until they've killed him with worry and he's such a sensitive man."

I could sense the frustration in Mama's voice. All she wanted was for Papa to be happy, and the bureau should want the same. My father had brought many men to justice and had probably saved the lives of many people. Only three years ago he'd brought down several men from a vicious gang. They were murderers and my father did the right thing by ending their cold-blooded lives.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't get so angry. I don't suppose any of this is your fault." My mother apologized as she returned to her seat on the bench. The stranger just listened quietly. "There's no need to worry about him nowadays."

"Well where is he?" The man asked curiously, a bit of persistence in his voice.

"He and his brother, Phillip, went hunting on the south side of the San Luis River. Be careful crossing over, they were saying it was dangerous." Mama warned, remembering Papa and Uncle Phillip's words. I could tell she was worried for them, she always worried about my father.

"I sure will, ma'am. And don't worry about a thing. I'm sure your husband will be just fine." The stranger replied, his last sentence only made my nervousness grow. Something about him just seemed wrong.

My bad feeling was only confirmed true as the man stepped onto the porch and withdrew a revolver. He aimed it at my mother's head and she gasped. My body froze over with shock.

"No." I whispered.

Her aged eyes stared into the glass to me, I saw her fear. The man must have noticed because his dark eyes darted to me. My breath hitched as I realized that he had seen me and was watching me.

"Whoever's in there, get out here now!" He demanded, nodding outside. I was still frozen. When I didn't respond he aimed his gun to the side of my mother's face and she began to cry. "Come out or I'll shoot!" He warned. The look he gave me told me that he really would.

I forced myself toward the door, trying to keep my nervous feet from steeping on my yellow skirt. Walking past the door was like walking out of a protection barrier and into 'no man's land'. I instantly felt my heart begin to pound louder and louder, my body trembling. It took all my courage to look the man in the eye. At first, his eyes were angry and mean. Then, the coldness melted from his face and he almost looked as if he'd been startled. I didn't understand this, a seventeen year old girl was nothing to be afraid of that's for sure.

"On your knees." He ordered, but I could sense a difference in his voice. Still, it made me no less afraid.

"Please. Please, don't do this." I begged timidly.

"GET ON YOUR KNEES!" He shouted impatiently. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I held up my hands in defense and slowly lowered myself to my knees. He released my mother and she slumped down on the porch. The man started towards me and my horrified mother inched toward him

"No. Please, leave my daughter be." My mother begged, but the man ignored her. He was standing over me now, staring me down,

"You Edgar Ross's daughter?" He questioned me. My lips quivered as I struggled to speak.

"Y-Yes." I stuttered nervously.

He responded by kneeling in front of me and grabbing my wrists and holding them together with one hand while he got his rope from his belt and tied them together. I was too terrified to resist him, but continued to cry.

"Please, leave her alone. Whatever your business is with my husband, she has nothing to do with it." Mama tried to plead again, she was close enough that she placed her hand onto the man's shoulder. As if this would persuade him. Instead, he withdrew his revolver again and turned to her with it again.

"Get back! Sit down!" He shouted at her. Mama did as she was told and sat back onto the bench. Then, she held her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

The man turned back to me as he stood up, dragging me to my feet as well. He spun me around to face the porch steps and pressed the barrel of his gun to my back.

"Move." He growled, the meanness returned to his voice. Afraid of what he might do if I hesitated again, He stepped off the porch and continued walking towards his horse.

"Please! She's just a girl." I heard my mother cry out. I looked back to see her staring at the young man with pleading eyes. He did the same.

"If you ever wanna see her alive again, I suggest you stay put and shut up." Were his last words to her and he urged me forward again.

My mother's sobbing went on as I was picked up from behind and thrown onto the stallion's back. He raised his head and snorted in response to my light weight. Then, the man mounted up behind me, pushing me forward in the seat so that we both fit in the saddle. I cringed as his chest was pressed into my back and his arms went around me so he could take the reins.

Without warning, my kidnapper spurred the horse and it pitched at the sudden contact before galloping up the hill and away from the house. My bound hands gripped the saddle horn for dear life as I did not expect that this man would care if I went face-first onto the ground.

I was so relieved that he had not harmed my mother, but I couldn't help being afraid for my own life now and my father's as well. The only thing my racing mind could think of was that this was a ransom and he was expecting my father would pay a great amount of cash to get me back. Though my family had had it easier than most, we weren't rich. Papa wouldn't be able to pay the ransom if that were the case, and I was probably about to die. The realization of this made my tears flood my blue eyes again. I didn't even get to say good-bye to Mama, nor had I the chance to tell her that I loved her one last time.

"Quit that cryin'! I haven't killed you yet, have I?" My captor shouted above the sound of the horse's hooves. I tried to stop, I really did. I was too upset and too afraid to keep my sobs at bay. When he realized that I just couldn't help it, not another word was said. We rode on into the direction of the Mexican boarder. At least, I might see my Papa once more before this man killed me.


	2. A Promise of Revenge

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Red Dead Redemption. Celia Ross is my OC character so I am taking claim to her.**

**WARNING: This chapter includes scenes that have been altered because of my OC's appearance. Also, this is rated mature due to violence and other mature subjects that will be revealed in later chapters. You have been warned! :)**

**Author's Note: Hoped you enjoyed the first chapter! In case you're wondering, Jack Marston did intend to kill Emily Ross until he found out that the Ross's had a daughter. You make think that it's not something he would do, but I believe otherwise. His family had all suffered greatly because of Edgar Ross and I think he would want all of his family to know how he felt. So, what does he plan to do now that he has kidnapped Edgar's daughter? Read to find out! :) Also please don't forget to leave a review if you like this or just want to send me some feedback. Thanks everyone! :)**

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By the time we had crossed over the bridge leading to the Mexican territory, I was already plenty sore and exhausted. I had never ridden a horse without riding britches before and the leather nearly rubbed my bare legs raw. My long, brown hair had fallen from its usual bun and was blowing back wildly. I had cried so much that I didn't think I could shed another tear.

The man who had taken me hostage never said another word since he'd scolded me for crying. I had managed to come up with a plan that might just get this whole thing over with now. I did not want my own father to watch me die, even if it meant dying right here, right now. Afraid that I might change my mind if I waited any longer, I threw all my weight towards my right and was out of the saddle before the man had any time to grab me, which I was surprised that he even attempted to catch me.

My shoulder and the side of my head hit first and a rolled a few times. I wasn't sure if I was lucky that I hadn't been killed by a stray rock colliding with my skull, or unfortunate enough that I didn't have that easy way of dying. I felt the dirt cut and scratch my cheek and I questioned whether or not I still had two legs.

I heard the Palomino's feet stomp into the ground as he was forced to stop so suddenly, he snorted possibly out of aggravation as his rider changed directions. Trotting hooves came closer and closer to me until I guessed that the animal was standing just over me. I didn't bother trying to move. The man jumped down from the saddle and jerked me up so that I had no choice but to look him in the eye. I flinched as his hand came up and wiped the dirt from my face.

"Are you stupid, or somethin'?!" He shouted angrily. When I didn't answer, he shook my shoulders a little. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

I was too frightened to speak, tears pouring from my eyes once again. The man looked over me with his scowling eyes.

"Are ya hurt?" He asked me, the frustration still in his voice. My side and my head hurt from the fall, but there was no great damage other than a few scrapes. I shook my head no.

"Come on then." The man ordered, pulling me back to his horse and throwing me up into the saddle. He mounted up behind me again. He took the reins with one hand while his right arm wrapped around my stomach and pressed me closer to him.

"Just so you ain't tempted to try that again." He purred into my ear.

I cringed, feeling very uncomfortable with how close our bodies were. The man gave the horse a kick and we were moving again. My nervous hands gripped the saddle horn tightly as the stallion broke into a gallop. I knew that my fate was drawing closer, and I was so afraid. We came to a hill and I made out a small camp a short ways down the road. My heart began to beat faster, and I felt my kidnapper's hand squeeze my side. The horse slowed to a canter.

"Don't you make a sound." He growled. We came upon the camp fast. It was only Uncle Phillip there. I didn't see Papa anywhere. The man behind me stopped the horse in front of my uncle as the older man looked up. He quickly realized my situation and aimed his rifle at my captor who in turn took out his gun and put it to my head.

"Shoot me, I shoot her, friend." The younger man warned. My uncle didn't move.

"What are you doin' with my niece, boy?" Uncle Phillip asked as he cocked his weapon. My kidnapper did the same. I felt like I would faint I was so afraid.

"You just put your gun down and tell me what I wanna know, and she'll be just fine." At this, Uncle Phillip hesitantly lowered his gun, but he still kept it close enough to quickly fire if he needed to.

"What the hell you want?" He asked coldly.

"I'm looking for Edgar Ross. Where is he?" The one behind me demanded.

"He's down river, duck hunting. What's your business with my brother? And what's it got to do with Celia?" Uncle Phillip answered, his expression cold and angry.

"Never you mind, friend. Just stay here and keep your mouth shut and you won't be puttin' her in the ground." My captor replied harshly. I wasn't sure if he even planned on keeping me alive. I looked to my uncle with pleading eyes.

"You harm a single hair on her head and I'll blast ya to kingdom come, boy." Uncle Phillip threatened. The gun was slowly taken away from the back of my head, but I didn't feel any safer.

"Much obliged, friend." My captor spurred the horse beneath us and we sped away from my uncle. I quickly looked back to make sure that he wasn't going to try and be brave. I knew that it wouldn't be good for either of us if he did. I only saw him watching us were back on the road now, my heart was pounding even worse than before. This was it. I was about to die.

"Why are you doing this? My father has never done anything to you." I choked out as I began to cry again.

"I wouldn't be so sure." The man replied. What could my father have done to him that would make him do this? Of that I was not sure, but I did know that I had never been so scared in my life.

"Please don't do this. Please, I'm begging you." I cried desperately.

"Hush!" He shouted at me. There was no convincing him, he had already made up his mind.

A shot rang out up ahead. Uncle Phillip said that Papa was duck hunting. We were here. The horse was turned off the dirt road where I saw my father standing at the edge of the river with his back turned to us. My kidnapper hopped down from the saddle and then jerked me down by my arm. My legs wouldn't move when he urged me to go towards my father, so he dragged me.

"Excuse me, you Edgar Ross?" The young man shouted as he threw me to the ground in front of him. Papa quickly turned around, his grey brows raised with surprise.

"What the hell is goin' on?" He demanded. I started to crawl towards him but my captor's boot stood on my dress to keep me still.

"This your daughter?" He asked.

"What the hell is this? You tryin' to pull a ransom on me, boy? Well, you can forget it! I ain't fallin' for it!" My father's words stunned me.

"You won't get a cent outta me!"

"Papa." I begged.

"That ain't why I'm here. I have a message for you: my name is Jack Marston. You knew my father." My captor said. That name sounded faintly familiar, but I wasn't sure where I'd heard it. My father must have recognized it too. He nodded, even chuckled. From my blurry eyes I watched him step closer.

"I see. I remember your father." His voice changed, he had this arrogant tone. He wasn't acting at all like my Papa.

"I've come for you, Ross." The young man standing above me growled. My father chuckled again and began to walk up the bank.

"And you, boy, have sure shit found me." He replied. My kidnapper took two steps back, pulling me with him by the collar of my dress.

"You killed my father!" Jack Marston said. What?! That had to be a lie, my father was not a murderer.

"Your father killed himself with the life he lived." Papa corrected.

"You killed him! I saw you." Jack shouted back.

"You keep sayin' that." My father said, leaning against his rifle as if the conversation was amusing to him. He did not seem to acknowledge that this man was holding me hostage.

"You sent him to do your dirty work, then you shot him like a dog!" The young man spat angrily. Was he telling the truth? Did Papa really murder a man in cold blood.

"And I'll shoot you like one too, ya little piece of trash! Now get outta here before I kill you as well! You've done ruined my daughter! You probably done had your way with her, she won't be good to any man now!" What Papa said had hurt me more than throwing myself off of that palomino a hundred times. My tears now burned my face and my heart stung. How could he say such a thing?

"I ain't goin' nowhere old man." Jack Marston said threateningly. The both stepped back twice. I knew what was about to happen. I crawled into the brush beside me, cowering like a child. My father and my kidnapper had their hands ready for their guns. I waited in horror. The seconds seemed like hours.

In a quick flash, Marston ripped his gun from his holster and fired away at my Papa four times before he could get his gun completely raised. He was thrown down the bank from the force of the bullets and into the side of the river.

"Papa!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I jumped up, but quickly fell as my legs got tangled up in my skirt. There was no point in getting up. It was all over now. All I could do was sob uncontrollably and wait for Jack Marston to shoot me next.

I waited for death. I prepared myself as I heard the clinging sound of Marston's boots coming closer. He took me be the arm and pulled me so that I was sitting up. I kept my eyes on the ground, not wanting to look at him when he shot me. From the corner of my blurred eyes I watched him pull out a knife and squat to my level. I clamped my eyes shut quickly, afraid that he might so something much worse. He took my tied wrists in his hand and with the other I felt him cutting the rope that bound them together.

Out of confusion, I opened my eyes and watched him curiously as the rope fell to the ground in front of me. I looked up into Jack Marston's dark eyes, no longer seeing hatred as had been been there before.

"I never did intend of harming you, miss. If that makes ya feel any better." He spoke gently now, which made me feel even more confused.

"Then why did you bring me here?" I demanded timidly. Jack's eyes looked into mine, as if he was searching for some kind of forgiveness.

"When I found out you were Ross's daughter, I wanted you to know how it felt watching your pa die right in fronta' ya. I guess now I mighta been doin' ya a kindness." He answered thoughtfully.

"A kindness?! You murdered my father!" I blurted our angrily. How could he think that he was being kind in forcing me to watch my father die? Jack didn't say anything, but he stood and walked back to his horse.

"What are you doing?" I asked, hot tears streaming down my face. I jumped to my feet and walked after him.

"Goin' home." He answered simply. "Your uncle is a short walk down this road. I''m sure ya won't get lost."

The young man mounted his horse.

"I won't forget what you done, Jack Marston. I'll find you!" I promised with all the anger and hatred in my heart.

"And I sure look forward to that. Have a good day, miss." Jack said arrogantly as he spurred the golden stallion and rode away. I would not let him get away with this. I would find Jack Marston again, and I would get my revenge on him.


	3. The Things People Think

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Red Dead Redemption. Celia Ross is my OC character so I am taking claim to her.**

**WARNING: This chapter includes scenes that have been altered because of my OC's appearance. Also, this is rated mature due to violence and other mature subjects that will be revealed in later chapters. You have been warned! :)**

**Author's Note:** **So, I absolutely loved the last chapter! I was so afraid that people were thinking that this story was a dud, but even if you do, I'm too excited for this story to delete it. What will happen next? I know! Read to find out, and if you like it or want to let me know anything I need to fix just leave a review. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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"Celia!" My uncle called he came down the road on his sorrel horse. I quickened my limping pace toward him. The elder man jumped down from his saddle before the animal ever came to a full stop. When I reached him I fell into his arms and bawled harder than a colic baby. Uncle Phillip pulled away and held my shoulders.

"Did he hurt ya any? Where is that bastard?! I'll blow his damn head off!" Uncle Phillip said angrily as he searched around me for the man who had me hostage maybe half an hour ago.

"He's gone." I whimpered through my tears. My uncle's old hand held my face and he looked into my eyes.

"Where's Edgar?"

Papa's name made wail again and drop to my knees. I was still horrified.

"That son of a bitch!" Uncle cursed before gently lifting me to my feet. "Come on darlin', let's get you back to your mama."

He climbed back onto the mare and held out his hand to help pull me up behind him.

It was sunset when I returned to the lake house. My dear mother came running of the porch and held me tightly as she cried tears of relief.

"Oh, Celia! I was so afraid I wouldn't see you again." She cried as she kissed my cheek over and over again. Her hands held mine, petting them nervously.

"Em, 'fraid I have bad news." Uncle Phillip said morosely, taking off his tattered hat. My mother's eyes turned to him, overflowing with worry.

"What is it, Phillip?" She begged, though I could sense in her voice that she was afraid to know the answer.

"Edgar has been murdered. The man who took Celia shot him." The grieve was evident in my uncle's words. My mother's hands covered her mouth, her tears were now of sadness. It was hard to see them in so much pain. It just as bad as witnessing the death of my father.

Uncle Phillip took us back to Blackwater that night and had went with some men to collect Papa's body. I sat in our copper-lined bathtub as my mother drained a sponge over my bare back. I kept my legs hugged to my chest as I watched the steam rise from the warm water indifferently.

"Celia, my dear, you have been so quiet." Mama whispered, a hint of concern in her voice.

"I'm sorry, Mama." I whispered back to her, keeping my eyes on the still water.

"Sweetheart, there's no need for you to be sorry. No need for you to be ashamed either. What that horrible man has done to you is not your fault." My mother's words caught my attention. My brows arched automatically as I turned to her.

"Mama, what are you talkin' about?" I asked, hoping that she wasn't implying what I thought she was.

"Celia, you don't hafta try hidin' it from me. I seen how uncomfortable it was for when you walked." She paused, the rims of her old eyes threatened to spill over with tears. My inner thighs were sore, but it was from straddling a saddle without riding breeches.

"Mama, that man did not force himself on me." I said only in my own defense, not Jack Marston's.

"Dear, you are still shocked by this. Don't worry, it will get better." Mama responded without even considering what I was telling her. She thought that I was too overwhelmed to admit to myself what hadn't even happened. It made me think of the last thing my father had said, that I was ruined and no man would ever want to marry me. As my mother continued to wash my back, I felt like she was trying to scrub away the nonexistent filth that my accused attacker had left behind.

Sleep did not come to me willingly, and the quilt that covered me did not give me warmth. I laid awake in my dark room for what felt like a long time before being consumed by tiredness. Even then, Jack Marston would not let me be.

I dreamed of laying in my bed, his figure lurking in the shadowed corner of my room. He crept closer, quickly grabbing my arms and holding my wrists above my head when I tried to flee. He put his finger to my lips silently, signaling for me to keep quiet. I obeyed fearfully. His finger trailed from my lips, off my chin and down my neck. His touch felt horrifyingly real, I could even feel a tear stream down my cheek.

I clamped my eyes shut and I felt Jack's finger pause at the first button on my gown.

"Look at me." I heard his familiar boyish voice whisper. I forced my lids open, finding a pair of dark eyes staring into mine. They were full of meanness, tainting me as they stared into my soul.

Still holding me down, the man quickly jumped on top me. I fought back the scream that scratched at my throat. Jack watched me quietly for a moment before he began undoing the buttons of my night gown. He stopped when the flesh above my breasts were revealed. Leaning down, his eyes didn't break from mine. His lips were inches from my chest when he suddenly bit into the skin at my throat.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, sitting straight up in my bed. The weight of Jack Marston on top of my disappeared and the morning sun lit my room dimly. I frantically ran my fingers over my neck, feeling no teeth marks or even the slightest bit of pain. I panted, thankful that I was out of that nightmare.

I was startled as my bedroom door opened and my mother rushed to the side of the bed. Her tired face was washed over with worry as she took my hand and began to pet it comfortingly.

"Celia, are you alright?" She asked me. I nodded, to quickly let her know that I was fine.

Mama placed her nervous palm on my hair and gently kissed the top of my head.

"Come, dear. The chapel will be holding service for your Papa's funeral in a couple of hours." She said, trying not to let her grief slip through into her words. It was a vain attempt. I got up out of the bed and went to sit at the vanity table in front of the mirror. Mama stood behind me, slowly and carefully undoing the long braid that my hair was in. She took the sterling silver hair brush from the table and ran it through my brown locks. It was a calming feeling, but it wasn't enough to shake that monster-like image of Jack Marston.

The service was agonizing. I held my poor mother, afraid that she might fall to pieces if I didn't. A choir sang "Amazing Grace" and "Shall We Gather at the River" beautifully, but it only pained my heart. At the end of the service when everyone walked past Papa's coffin to pay their final respects, Mama kissed his forehead. I didn't touch him, but stared at him for a moment. His last thoughts of me were that I was no good. Although I still loved him dearly, those final words would stay with me forever.

The cedar wood coffin was closed. Uncle Phillip and five of my father's former colleagues from the Bureau of Investigation were the pallbearers. They carried Papa out of the chapel and into the churchyard cemetery. Everyone who had attended the funeral, which was most of the town of Blackwater, gathered around the plot were Papa was to be buried. My corset was becoming uncomfortably tight and the heavy, black dress I wore did not help the matter. The preacher opened his Bible and began to read a few verses aloud.

Looking around, I saw the sea of black suits and dresses, specked with pasty, somber faces. Amongst them, I caught two younger faces staring at me. The girls were my age, maybe a year younger than I. Their thin lips exchanged whispers as they watched me. Turning back to the preacher, I tried not to let it bother me. I knew what they must have been whispering about. Uncle Phillip had informed the Bureau of Investigation of my abduction and "assault" when me told them of Papa's death. Everyone in town knew by now.

It made me angry, even more so that I could do nothing about it. I couldn't deny it, everyone just thought I was trying to hide my shame. I hated Jack Marston. Not just because murdered my father, but because he had taken away my innocence without even deliberately doing so.

After the funeral, Mama and I went home. Uncle Phillip came with us as well as several men from the bureau. Archer Fordham, my father's partner and friend, was there. They discussed further with my uncle how they were going to track down Papa's murderer.

Jack Marston. I wanted him dead so bad that I couldn't stand it, but not by a hanging or shot by the law. No, I hated him enough that I wanted to kill him myself. Then, Jack Marston wouldn't just die for murdering my father, but for the trouble he had brought upon me. It wasn't something that a young, churchgoing girl should think of, but I was too angry and humiliated to care.

Perhaps I could do it. Perhaps I could. The bureau only had the information of Jack Marston's description given to them by my mother and uncle. I was the only one who knew his name. I'd do as I promised him: I'd find him and kill him.


	4. Preparing For A Journey

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Red Dead Redemption. Celia Ross is my OC character so I am taking claim to her.**

**WARNING: This chapter includes scenes that have been altered because of my OC's appearance. Also, this is rated mature due to violence and other mature subjects that will be revealed. You have been warned! :)**

******Author's Note:** Last chapter was rather gloomy, I'll admit. This chapter will have more action in it . . . or at least there will be more happening -haha-. So, I hope you enjoy it!

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After the men from the bureau left, Uncle Phillip stayed and slept on the couch. I laid patiently in my bed, giving my mother and uncle enough time to fall asleep. I kept my eyes wide open, afraid that I would drift into a slumber myself. I didn't want to sleep for fear of another nightmare.

Maybe I was just being silly. How was a seventeen year old girl going to track down a guy a shoot him single-handedly? I'd never handled a gun in my life, and for that matter, never killed a man. What was I think? I'd done made up my mind, there was no chickening out now.

I sat up in bed and threw the quilt from my body. I jumped up and went to my wardrobe and searched for my riding breeches. If I didn't take action now, I knew I'd never do it. I hadn't wore the breeches in two years, but they still fit well. The billowed legs felt so strange from wearing a dress or a skirt all the time. I pulled my nightgown over my head and threw on a white, cotton, button up blouse. My nervous fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons. I hadn't even left my bedroom, yet I was already nervous. I wouldn't change my mind now though. I slipped my feet into my old riding boots. They were old and tattered, but still useful.

I crept as silently as I could out my door and walked to Mama and Papa's room. I entered the bedroom, keeping on my toes as I did so. My mother was asleep, my father's pillow was wrapped loosely in her arms. Swallowing hard, I continued to the wooden dresser and slowly opened the top drawer that my Papa always kept his cattleman revolver. I also found his gun belt. I picked it up, the leather smell reminded me so much of him.

I shook my head, forcing away any of the memories. I put the belt around my waist, though it was much too big for me. I used the farthest notch and then made a small knot around the buckle with the strap. It stayed, but the belt was still loose-fitting. I'd worry about that later. I placed the revolver in its respective holster and fastened the strap over it. In the drawer was a small pocket knife. I took it and placed it in my deep breeches pocket. I would rather have it than to be caught in a bad situation without it. That thought made me wonder how dangerous this was going to be. Again, I shook my head. I could think about any of that.

I left the room quietly and sneaked down the hall and the stairs. My uncle was sound asleep and snoring. I went to the oak desk beside the fireplace, taking a piece of parchment paper and took the metal pen. I steadied my trembling hand as best I could to write out a letter.

_Dearest Mother and Uncle Phillip,  
_

_I can not tell you where I am going, for I know you will come searching for me. I can tell you that I did not run away. You should not worry, I have father's gun. I beg that you do not come after me, I must settle this matter entirely on my own. Only then, will my father and I both find peace. I am sorry Phillip that I have taken your mare, I hope you are not still angry at me when I return. Mother, I do not know how long I may be absent, but do not fret if I do not come home within a week's time. I will think of you both every day and I will remember to say my prayers before I sleep. I look forward to being with you both again soon.  
_

_Your Loving Daughter and Niece,  
_

_Celia  
_

I could feel the tears rimming my eyes as I finished my goodbye note. I left it on the desk for them both to see in the morning. I walked into the kitchen and took the half loaf of bread that I wrapped up in my handkerchief. I also took a can of peanut butter. I set both items on the table and folded the blue tablecloth into a bindle. I grabbed a small pack of matches by the fire as well. After that, I grabbed my black wool jacket from the coat rack and slipped into it. I gathered my bindle and left the house silently.

The night was so dark, I could only see the lights from the inner streets of Blackwater. They helped light the yard well enough for me to find the shed where Uncle Phillip was keeping his horse. The old mare snorted at my presence, but showed no sign that I was unwelcome. I took out the pack of matches and lit one, allowing me enough light to find the lantern that was hanging on the wall. The lantern lit up the inside of the shed, I would be able to see while saddling up the horse.

I was startled and nearly screamed seeing a couple tiny mice scampering across the floor and underneath the straw bedding for the mare. I had embarrassed myself. If I was terrified of a little mouse, could I handle this trip? I forgot all about the mouse and moved to the saddle that lay in the corner of the shed. I took the dusty blanket first and carefully set it on the sorrel mare. She looked at me curiously, but didn't make a fuss. The saddle was heavy, and it took all my strength of lift it up and place it on the horse. I reached underneath her stomach and took the strap. I looked at it curiously for a moment before discovering that it worked like a belt. I had a hard time tightening the saddle, I'd never had to do such a task before. I pulled it as tight as I could, not wanting to be riding and suddenly slide sideways. The horse must have been annoyed with me, for she stamped her hooves a couple of times. I petted her neck apologetically.

Thankfully, the mare was familiar and gentle enough of with bit to allow me to slip it into her mouth without any hesitation. I fastened the bridle and praised the animal with a soft scratching on her ear. I stuffed my rather small bindle into one of the saddle bags, and before I knew it I was ready to take off. This was it. There was no way I could turn back now.

I breathed in deep and swallowed hard before setting my foot into the stirrup and lifting my body up and into the saddle. I squeezed my legs around the horse's sides, but quickly winced as the soreness had still not left me. I clicked my tongue and the mare moved forward. Outside, the air suddenly felt colder, creepier. I tried to remind myself that it was only my nerves. I took a final look at the house before urging the horse into a trot over the hill away from Blackwater. This was really it.

The dirt road was desolate at night, lonely. The moon and the stars were bright enough that I could see the land of the Great Plains. The sounds of small animals made it less scary. However, scary or not, I had to do this. It didn't matter how afraid I was. I would not let anything terrify me enough to run home. No, I was going to find Jack Marston.


	5. Heading For Beecher's Hope

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Red Dead Redemption. Celia Ross is my OC character so I am taking claim to her.**

**WARNING: This chapter includes scenes that have been altered because of my OC's appearance. Also, this is rated mature due to violence and other mature subjects that will be revealed in later chapters. You have been warned! :)**

**Author's Note: YAY! Go Celia! She is sooo much braver than I am. I'm terrified of the dark so I already would have chickened out. Now that she's started out on her journey, what will happen next? You must read to find out. :) By the way, I just recently started reading the book True Grit in my English class and I was freaked out by how similar it is to this fanfic. A young girl going after her father's killer, and her last name is also Ross. Craziness I tell you!  
**

* * *

I had been riding for at least an hour, the mare was walking down the road. I should have been wanting to put some real distance from Blackwater and myself, but the darkness of night had me less enthused. I was coming into a wood with tall trees that loomed over me eerily. They covered the moonlight and I could barely see anything in front of my horse. I leaned closer to her neck, as if she offered any sort of protection.

I heard owls and rustling sounds around me. I had the most uncomfortable feeling. Why didn't I wait to leave in the morning?

Coming to a railroad bridge underpass, I noticed a faint glow of light up the road. I tapped the mare's sides with my boots and she picked up a trot. I hugged her neck excitedly as I found a several log cabins and even a fire where I heard the sound of a harmonica and the humming of voices. I felt so relieved. I brought the mare to a stop at a hitching post in front of the largest log building. On the sign above the porch it read: Manzanita Trading Co. It was good enough for me, they had light and possibly a bed.

I stepped up on the creaking, wooden porch and gently knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I gave a gentle push against it. The door slowly opened, a dim light appearing from inside. I pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped in.

"Howdy there, miss. Help ya with anything?" A lean, dark-skinned man with a blue hat greeted me. He smiled in a friendly way.

"Do you have any rooms available for the night?" I asked shyly, slowly coming closer to the front counter.

"I got a little cabin out back. Real nice, a fireplace an' everythin'. Three dollars a night." The man answered as he chewed something in his mouth. I sucked in a breath and bit my lip nervously. I had forgotten about money. I had nearly twenty dollars that I had saved over the years. My grandparents use to give me a few dollar bills on my birthdays and Christmases until they passed away.

"I'm afraid that I don't have any money, sir." I began, the stutter in my voice increased. "You see, I really need a place to stay. I'll sleep in a barn if I have to."

The man chuckled at my desperateness.

"You look awful young to be needin' a place to stay an' no money. Ya ain't runnin' away from home, are ya?" He asked with a smile, though I wasn't sure if it was a serious question or not. Still, I felt myself growing more nervous.

"N-No, sir. I just need a place to stay. Please, just let me sleep on the porch or somethin'." I begged. Suddenly, the man burst with laughter.

"Ah, calm down. I was only foolin'. Tell ya what, miss. Ya can sleep in the cabin tonight no charge, if you'll help feed the horses in the mornin'. How's 'at sound?" The man proposed. I smiled excitedly and nodded in agreement.

"Alright, let's get ya settled in." He said, walking out from behind the counter. I followed him out to the porch and down the stairs. I unhitched the mare and led her as I followed the man. I had to be very careful to not trip as we walked, the man didn't seem to have any trouble though. We made our way past the fire pit where several men's faces were lit from the glow. The harmonica was played softly and the men listened to it.

"Welcome to your quarters, miss." The man beside me chuckled as we now stood in front of the cabin. "You can leave your horse over there." He finished, pointing to a post on the side of the log structure.

I took the mare over and tied her reins.

"You gonna leave 'er there like 'at all night?" The man questioned strangely. I felt confused.

"Leave her like what?" I asked him.

"You might wanna be takin' that saddle off 'er if ya plan on lettin' 'er get any rest too." He advised.

I gulped.

That thing was hard enough to get on. But if I was on my own with Uncle Phillip's horse, she needed to be taken care of. I found the strap that held the saddle in place and worked to get it loosened up. I tugged and pulled for a moment, the annoyed horse snorted. Finally, the leather strap gave away and it dangled underneath the horse's stomach. I took the saddle by the horn and cantle and slide it off the animal's back. I quickly set it on the post before I dropped it.

That was done now, I thought as I took a few deep breaths. I continued with the man into the cabin. It was so dark that I couldn't make out a thing. The man with me went further into the room and I heard him light a match. Soon, the room was lit up by a rock fireplace with a pair of antlers mounted above the mantel.

"It look alright?" The man asked.

"Yes, it's perfect." I answered, my eyes still looking over the cozy room.

"Alrighty then, miss. The name's George, just holler if ya need anythin'." George tipped his hat as he left me alone. There were two brass beds on either side of the fireplace. I sat down on the right one. Pulling my boots off, my feet felt sore. I ignored it though, I wasn't going to be a sissy. I removed my jacket and hung it on the brass bars at the foot of the bed. I pulled the scratchy covers down and slipped into the sheets.

I was so tired. My eyes fell closed and I didn't try to open them, I probably didn't have the strength to anyway. Tomorrow after helping George feed the horses, I'd ask around if anyone knew Jack Marston and where I could find him. My best bet would be to try that piss ant town of Armadillo, or maybe that Thieves's place in the marshy area. I didn't want to worry about it right now, though. I just wanted to sleep.

I cleared my mind and listened to the soft crackling of the wood on the fire. Within minutes I was asleep.

I found myself in the forest, running in the darkness. I couldn't see where I was going, but I heard something chasing me. I didn't dare look back, afraid of what I might see. I tripped over something hard and fell into the ground. The thing behind me slowed to a stop and I could feel its evil eyes staring down at me.

Slowly, I rolled over on my back. Standing over me was the silhouette of a tall man wearing a hat. Jack Marston, it had to be him. I screamed as loud as I could for help, which gained a wicked laugh from him.

"Why you screamin'? I haven't killed you yet, have I?" Those words had been burned into my mind from the last time I saw Marston. I reached for the revolver at my side, but it was not there. I was trapped and helpless. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?

The shadowed figure of Jack Marston bent down and picked me up by my throat. As I was lifted off the ground, I tried frantically to claw myself out of the man's grip, but it was useless. His dark eyes gleamed in the dim moonlight as his lips curled back, revealing sharp, jagged teeth. Just like before, I watched the teeth come at my throat and I screamed a second time.

I threw myself straight up in bed. A thin layer of sweat chilled my skin. I looked around room, the fire was dying now, but it still left a glow in the room.

At the opening of the door, I jumped and started to reach for the gun in my holster. George stuck it head inside, and I relaxed.

"Mornin', miss." He said cheerfully. "Ready to help with those horses?"

I nodded and threw my feet to the side of the bed to get my boots on when a shot rang out close by. It startled me causing me to jump and even squeal a little. I thought George was going to fall on the floor laughing.

"No need to fret, miss. Just a couple a guys out huntin' early." The man reassured me. I sighed and tried to calm my rapid heart beat. I slipped my boots on and followed George outside. A big, black and white sheepdog sat outside the door. His long tongue panting as it watched me indifferently.

The sky was a mix of red and orange as the sun had not even peeked over the horizon yet. The air was crisp and cool, it helped pull me away from sleep. George picked up several tattered sacks that had been cut into feeding bags, he handed me about six. He instructed me to put a feeder on each horse including my own. It seemed simple enough.

As we walked around the yard putting the bags on the horses' heads, I thought about asking him if he knew Jack Marston. It was as good a time as any.

"George, can I ask somethin'?" I started shyly.

"Sure." He chewed.

"You wouldn't happen to know of any Marston people, would ya?" I asked, concentrating on putting a feeder on a bay horse so that I wouldn't appear to be too concerned.

"Well now, lemme think." He said, chewing away as he looked around. "I heard of a John Marston from some years back. He had that ranch down the road a stretch, Beecher's Hope as I recall. I reckon he got into some trouble with the law though and ended up six feet under. His son, Jack, lives there now I believe."

That name caught my attention in the midst of George's rambling.

"Jack Marston?" I asked, a little too much excitement in my voice. George nodded.

"Yep. He's quiet, keeps to himself down 'ere. Seems alright." He paused for a minute as he studied me. "Say, why ya ask?"

I put another feeder on the horse next to the bay, buying myself a moment to think.

"Um, just curious is all." I giggled weakly. George seemed to believe me.

"Well, I wouldn't go wanderin' round over there. Ol' Jack don't really like comp'ny." He warned. I kept my face straight, but in my head I had the biggest smirk.

After I'd finished the job of giving all the horses their food, George invited me to have breakfast with him and his friends. I was itching to get on my way to Beecher's Hope and confront Jack Marston, but my stomach had other plans. I gave into the hunger and had a sit down with George and his friends around the fire pit. They were all scruffy men, with beards and overalls. Some didn't acknowledge me, a few eyed me strangely. I didn't worry about it though, I was more concerned with food.

George handed me a bowl of the stew and sat beside me. The meat looked like venison, there were some potatoes too. It tasted great and I had to keep myself from turning the bowl up and drinking the soup. I felt warmer and more awake now that I had some food in my stomach. After a engaged in a little small talk with George I went back to my room and gathered up my things. I wasn't looking forward to saddling the horse up again, but I managed alright.

The sun should have been in the sky already, but it was hidden behind a dark wall of clouds.

"You might wanna hurry gettin' to wherever it is you is gettin' to. That's a storm blowin' in." George said as I was finishing up tightening the strap of the horse's saddle.

"Thanks for givin' me a place to sleep, George. It was kind of you." I smiled. The man's face grew to a tint of red his brown eyes wandered around me.

"Ah, it was nothin', miss. You just be careful, an' watch yourself." The man said as he tipped his hat to me. He walked off and I mounted up on the sorrel mare. I started her down the road that George said led to Beecher's Hope. Surprisingly, I wasn't afraid or nervous. Although I was sure that would change.


	6. A Second Encounter

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Red Dead Redemption. Celia Ross is my OC character so I am taking claim to her.**

**WARNING: This chapter includes scenes that have been altered because of my OC's appearance. Also, this is rated mature due to violence and other mature subjects that will be revealed. You have been warned! :)**

**Author's Note: Yippie! I'm so excited for this chapter. It seems like events are moving really fast. Celia is now on her way to Beecher's Hope, what will happen when she makes it there? I don't even know right now to be honest. I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)**

* * *

Unfortunately, I didn't beat the storm. I had put a half hour's distance between the Manzanita Post and myself when tiny raindrops began to sprinkle around me.

Now, it was a downpour. My clothes were soaked and they clung to me, chilling me to the bone. My hair was dripping and stuck to my face. It must have been around noon, but the sky was dark and showed no sign of letting up with the rain.

The mare had been off to a cheery start. She had been ready to move around and put her long legs to use. Now, she walked gloomily with her head low, occasionally pitching and nickering at the lightning and thunder. I tried to keep her as calm as possible, which was a difficult task with me being terrified of the loud thundering bang.

I was in no way intimidating, not with how I looked now. If I was dry and not shivering and maybe gun in hand, I might have been able to put a scare into Jack Marston that way. At the moment, I looked no better than a drowned rat. He'd probably mock me and laugh. If that was the case, I'd just pull out Papa's gun and shoot him with it. He wouldn't make a fool of me.

A stream of lightning flashed in the distance, brightening up the whole sky in that instant. I noticed on the side of the road was now fencing. The muddy road now dipped down into a small hill and at the end of the hill was a smaller road that cut to the right. There above that road was a wooden archway like you would see when coming onto ranch land.

This was Beecher's Hope. My heart fluttered out of excitement and fear. The monster that had ruined my life and haunted my dreams was somewhere down this road. I realized now that this was all real. I was really going to confront Jack Marston. I couldn't be a coward now. Just remember, Celia. Remember what he has done, I told myself.

I remembered Jack Marston kidnapping me and making my mother, and uncle, and me believe that he was going to kill me. Then, in cold blood he murdered my father and left me out in Mexican Territory to die. His actions made everyone in Blackwater that I had been raped and he'd destroyed my reputation.

I became angry, and with that anger I felt a burst of courage. I kicked the drenched mare and urged her into a slow canter. With each stride she made I felt my heart pumping faster. I was afraid, I would admit that, but I was more angry than I was afraid.

I pulled the mare to a stop as I came upon a log house. I slowly climbed down from the saddle, my arms and legs felt shaky as I did so. I watched the house carefully for a moment, the flickering warm glow coming from the windows. I had not taken into account how many people would be here. What if Jack Marston had a whole gang of men inside? I shook my head. No point in worrying about it now.

"Jack Marston!" I shouted as loud as I had ever shouted before. As if to emphasize my voice, a rumble of loud thunder followed afterwards. The rain pounding on the tin roof might have muffled my words, for nothing happened.

"Jack Marston!" I yelled louder.

I could feel the anger pulsing through my body as I began to pace back and forth in the soppy yard. Staring hard at the ground as I stomped it, I found a rock that was a little larger than my hand. I picked it up and turned back to the house. Using all the strength I could muster, I chucked it towards the window closest to the door. It crashed through the glass and disappeared inside.

"Jack Marston! Come out here!" I demanded furiously.

Seconds later, the door swung open. Jack Marston stood there with a revolver in hand ready to shoot. He hesitated when he spotted me, but he didn't lower his gun.

"Who are you?" He asked, slowly walking down the steps. I had the urge to back up, but I held my ground.

"You know who I am, Jack Marston!" I said over the rain. The young man peered closer at me and I heard a slight chuckle as he sighed. He lowered his revolver and relaxed.

"Yeah, I know you. You're that Ross girl." He laughed, but he had an arrogance about him.

"I've come to kill you, Jack Marston!" I growled, keeping my hand close to the cattleman's revolver in my holster. Jack Marston was not laughing now as he stepped closer.

"Those are some mighty brave words, girl." I commented with an intimidating tone in his voice.

I jerked the gun out of its holster and aimed it at him. He stopped in his tracks. He got the hint that I meant business now. I had to grip the gun with both hands so that he couldn't see how I was shaking. The raindrops felt colder as they met with my skin and clothes now. Jack was already drenched, the water drops splatted against his leather hat.

"You murdered my father, Jack Marston!" I reminded him coldly. The arrogance had left his face, the familiar look of anger was hinting now.

"Consider it a favor. Go home, girl!" Jack retorted. I felt my blood run cold. With my thumb, I pulled the hammer back on the revolver until it clicked.

"No! I came here to kill you and I aim to do it." I said promisingly.

"That so." He scoffed, coming towards me again.

I put my finger on the trigger, but I felt panicked. I took a step back, but Jack didn't stop. He wasn't at all intimidated by me. He was close enough that his chest pressed against the gun barrel. I clamped my eyes shut as I pulled the trigger, flinching as I did so. I only heard the terrifying sound of a click.

My eyes snapped open, seeing Jack Marston as I had in my nightmares. His eyes gleamed with anger as he stared down at me. Still breathing, still alive. That's when I realized that I had been stupid enough to not check the gun to see if it was loaded. Wait. Maybe. I quickly pulled the hammer back until it snapped and squeezed the trigger again. It gave that same click and nothing happened. Jack's face grew meaner.

My braveness disappeared and everything inside me screamed to run, but I was frozen with fear. In one swift movement, Jack Marston snatched my wrist and jerked me almost into his chest. He stared down at me as if he could shoot bullets from his dark eyes.

"Go home, Ross." He growled. "And don't ever come here again. I won't be so kind as to let you live a third time."

He pushed me away harshly and I fell backwards into the mud. Desperate to get away from the terrifying man above me, I turned and stumbled to my feet as I ran to the sorrel mare. She had been standing there patiently, completely oblivious to what had just happened. I didn't even use the stirrup as I frantically climbed onto her back and kicked her sides hard. I turned her to go back down the road we'd just came from moments ago.

I didn't care about anything. I just wanted to get out of here and back home as fast as I could. I didn't look back at Jack Marston and I hoped to never see his face again.

**Jack Marston [POV]**

I watched the little brat as her horse ran down the road. I hoped I'd put a scare in her bad enough that she'd never think about coming after me again. Who'd she think she was anyway? Damn wretch should have thanked me at the very least for killing that man after what he'd said. He might as well have called her dirt. Hell, I felt sorry for her more than anything. That Celia Ross was a pretty girl, too lovely and young to be killing anybody.

I watched her gallop away on the road going to Blackwater. Three men on horses rode behind her coming from the Manzanita Post area when she left Beecher's Hope. They gradually came closer up behind her as I watched them. It looked to be suspicious. Maybe it was nothing, but just what if? Even if she was Edgar Ross's daughter, it wouldn't be right to just sit back and let something happen to her. My Pa taught me better than that.

I let out a heavy sigh before I went to go get my horse.

"Man, I must be crazy."


	7. Betrayal and Redemption

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Red Dead Redemption. Celia Ross is my OC character so I am taking claim to her.**

**WARNING: This is rated mature due to violence and other mature subjects that will be revealed. You have been warned! :)**

**Author's Note: Last chapter probably wasn't what anyone was expecting, but I was writing off the top of my head and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. It's almost 3:00 in the morning so don't judge me too harshly if there are any mistakes in this chapter. I hope you like it!**

* * *

I rain stung my face as my horse galloped up the hill away from Beecher's Hope. My heart was still pounding loudly so that I could feel it in my head. I was a fool to think that I could have taken down Jack Marston. Me, a girl. I felt so stupid and humiliated. Still, I was lucky that I wasn't dead already. This was twice now that Jack Marston had let me get away with my life. I would never want to cross paths with him ever again.

I heard the sound of hooves splashing on the muddy road behind me, though I suspected it to be more people going towards Blackwater. I slowed the mare down and pulled her to the side to give them room to pass. Instead, I watched two men on horses come up beside me, and I still heard another rider behind my horse. The man closest to me whistled teasingly.

I tried to ignore the men and urged my horse to pick up her canter. The men did the same. I wasn't sure what kind of game they were trying to play, but it made me uncomfortable, even my mare snorted nervously.

"You sure are purdy." The same man said to me.

"She sure is." The other beside him commented with an eerie laugh.

My heart was beating even faster. I didn't like the way these men were acting, it scared me. When I made the mare speed up, the horses beside us matched our pace. Finally, the man closest to me pulled his horse even closer until it was nearly running over mine. I tried to make a quick escape, but the man jerked the reins out of my grip while the other behind me moved up to my other side and grabbed me by the waist. I felt myself being pulled right out of the saddle before I even had a chance to fight back.

I was thrown into the mud as the men jumped down from their saddles. Two of the scruffy men had strangely familiar faces, but I couldn't be certain. Then, I looked to the third man that had threw me from my horse, I felt as I had been kicked in the stomach when I saw his blue hat.

"George?" I called to him with my broken voice, but he kept his eyes on the soppy ground. The other men stood over me, their eyes holding something wicked.

"Listen here, girl." One growled as he squatted and pulled a gun from his side holster. "You're gonna keep your mouth shut. I don't wanna hear so much as a squeak outta you while we're gettin' a poke, ya hear?"

The thunder boomed and echoed over the land as my heart seemed to have stopped. I couldn't breathe as dread rose from my stomach and into my throat. The other bearded man came behind me and grabbed a hold of my arms and held my wrists behind my back with one hand. His other hand pulled the fabric of my blouse off my shoulder and stroked my soaked skin. I felt his nose press into the back of my head as he smelled my hair. As the man in front of me began to tug at my riding breeches, panic set in and I began to kick at him.

"Stop, please!" I begged desperately, only gaining the response of the man bringing his palm hard across my cheek.

"I told you to keep quiet, girl!" The man facing me aimed his gun at my face as the sting of his hand lingered.

"Will, maybe we oughta leave her be." George said suddenly. The man with the gun, or Will, quickly turned his attention to him.

"Quit that kinda talk and get over here. You's the one that brought us on this damn goose chase, now I ain't leavin' without a proper poke!" Will snapped and began to tug at my clothes. He ripped open my blouse and I felt his hands run over my body. George walked over and Will lowered his gun from my face.

"Now, hold her down and keep her quiet." The man behind me said as he released my wrists and stood up quickly.

George forced me to lie on my back and he pinned my arms under his legs and placed his hand firmly over my mouth. Will tore my breeches from my legs as the other man began to unbutton his pants excitedly.

Tears and mud stung my eyes. I'd rather have had Jack Marston kill me than to have these men do what they were going to do to me. I was scared and angry, so angry. Why couldn't Jack Marston have killed me?

"You're about to have the time of your life girl!" Will laughed wickedly in my face as he finished undoing his pants. I clamped my eyes shut, not wanting to watch the disgusting act.

Suddenly, I heard a deafening bang. I might have mistaken it for the thunder if I didn't hear a man's pain-filled cry follow it. My eyes snapped open to see the man who was once standing now on the ground, his hands clutching himself between his legs as blood poured from between his fingers. Another shot rang out as Will fell limp onto me. He had been shot in the head and his blood spilled onto my chest.

"Get away from her!" A familiar voice shouted over the wounded man's squalling. I turned to face Jack Marston as he aimed his rifle at George. I never thought that I would be happy to see him again.

"W-What do you want?" George stammered as he slowly inched away from me.

"You heard me! Get away from her!" Jack repeated, keeping his weapon ready.

George fell back and crawled away from me. Jack Marston came towards us. The man who had been shot between the legs stumbled to his feet and ran at Marston with a knife. The blade stuck into Jack's arm, but he countered back by bashing the man's head in with the butt of his rifle. He grunted when pulling the knife from his arm and continued over to me.

"Get up." He said to me as he took my arm and brought me to my feet. My legs felt numb at first, causing me to lean into Marston's side. I stepped away quickly after realizing what I'd done, but Jack gently pulled me towards him again and led me to where George lay on the ground. The man who had betrayed me lay there on the ground. His hands held up defensively.

"Mister, I never hurt her. I swear!" The dark-haired man pleaded like a coward as Jack and I stood over him.

I wondered if he was going to make me watch him kill another person. This time I might not mind. I was so angry and hurt by what George had done, I wanted to kill him myself.

"Please, Mister. Please don't shoot." George continued to whine and beg for his life.

"I'm not going to. She is." Jack Marston's words caused my stomach to feel like I'd been kicked here again.

My throat grew uncomfortably tight as I looked to him wide-eyed. He didn't say another word, but his dark eyes met mine. He pulled me in front of him with my back against his chest and he held the gun up to my hands.

"Take it." He whispered from behind me. I shuddered, but did as he told me.

The weight of the rifle fell into my hands. I watched George's eyes look to me desperately. I quickly regretted my earlier thought of wanting to kill this man. I couldn't bring myself to do it. My tears overflowed my eyes as I shook my head. Jack placed his hands over mine and brought the gun up and aimed it at George.

"Miss, please. I was gonna let you go." He whimpered.

"Shut up!" Jack shouted from behind me. Again, I felt his breath in my ear. "You know what he was gonna do. Now, shoot the sick bastard. He deserves it."

I listened to Jack Marston carefully, and I thought of what George and those other men were going to do to me. That made my anger spark up again. My fingers tightened around the gun as I looked to the disgusting man at the end of the barrel. Jack's hand moved my finger over the trigger, waiting for me to pull it.

"Do it." His voice whispered darkly.

My blood seemed to be boiling, my breathes were shallow. George did deserve it. I wanted him dead. When I was sure that my aim was at his head, I felt my finger press back onto the trigger until the rifle fired, nearly deafening me and breaking my shoulder.

I fell apart then. My knees buckled and I hit the ground. I sobbed uncontrollably as I realized what I had done. I was no better than Jack Marston now. Although I knew George had deserved it, I didn't find comfort in knowing that I had killed someone. My head was spinning and my eyes became blurred to the point that I couldn't see anything. I suddenly felt so exhausted that my eyelids felt like they were being weighed down. Slowly, my lids closed and my body went limp onto the muddy ground.


End file.
